


Harry Styles, Sex (Physio)therapist To The Stars

by zeldamonkey



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Harry Styles/Ben Winston (implied), Harry Styles/Nick Grimshaw (implied), M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldamonkey/pseuds/zeldamonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall's finally off his crutches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Styles, Sex (Physio)therapist To The Stars

Harry Styles, Sex (Physio)therapist to the stars

The day Niall's allowed off his crutches, he's sitting on his sofa playing FIFA when Harry comes barrelling into his flat. Niall doesn't regret for a minute giving all the lads keys, but some days, with Harry, he’s come close. Harry can be a bit mad.

"Niall!" he's yelling. "Niall, I know you're home, I have something very very important to tell you, where are you - oh. There you are." He stops right in front of the sofa, blocking Niall's view of the telly.

Niall sighs and pauses the game.

"Afternoon, Haz," he says, mildly. "You alright?"

"Fine, yeah. But listen, Lou told me you're off your crutches. Does that mean you're better now?"

"Yeah, gettin' there. Like, I've still got to do exercises and stuff, but I'm - "

"Nialler." Harry leans over him on the sofa, one hand planted each side of his hips, and speaks right into his face. "Are. You. Better now?"

"Yes? I s'pose. Haz, what's this about?"

Harry's not listening. "Up, up," he says, tugging on Niall's arms. "Bedroom, let's go, chop, chop, time's a-wasting."

Niall gives up. "You are honestly," he says as he levers himself up from the sofa gingerly, still expecting his knee to hurt more than it does, "the strangest bloody person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, d'you realise that?"

"Don't pretend you don't love it," Harry says absentmindedly. He's staring fixedly at Niall's knee, which makes Niall feel a bit self-conscious. He's never been as tanned and fit as the other lads, and now with a ruddy great scar on his knee things are even worse.

"Oh, hey, no, Nialler, don't look like that," Harry says, noticing his expression. "I was just looking to see - you're really better, right? Like, you're allowed to bend it and everything?"

"S'posed to, even," Niall says, and demonstrates with a little half-curtsy, right there in his sitting room. His knee trembles a little, his quads still weak from under-use, but it holds.

"Sick," Harry says, looking satisfied. "Come on, then, Ben showed me the most amazing thing the other day, it's going to blow your mind."

Still bewildered, Niall obediently follows Harry down the corridor to his bedroom. Harry pauses in the open doorway and looks back over his shoulder. "You showered recently?"

"Yeah, had one this mornin'. Haz, seriously, what's - "

But Harry's manhandling him again, pulling Niall into the room and then pushing him back onto the bed. Niall bounces a bit as he lands. "Strip," Harry says. "Clothes off, c'mon."

Niall pulls his tee-shirt off, then more carefully eases his shorts down his legs. He adds them to the mess on the floor - he's not exactly been keeping up with the housework with his dodgy knee.

Harry, still standing, is whipping his own clothes off at double speed, only stumbling a bit when he tries to pull his skinny jeans off over a bunched-up sock.

"So I'm guessin’ from the nakedness that this is a sex thing you want to show me," Niall says as Harry hops around the room on one foot, yanking at his sock. "Right?"

"Yep," Harry says. He finally gets his sock free and pulls his jeans off with a little cry of triumph. "A totally amazing sex thing."

"Right. Okay. Listen, it’s not that I'm not up for it," because it's been a bit of a dry spell for Niall, to be honest, what with his knee and all, "but I thought this was just a tour thing, like. Us." A thing with blowjobs when they were both drunk and horny, which to be fair was quite often, but nothing more than that. Just something that was safe and easy for Harry when he was away from home and didn't have Ben or Nick or any of his usual blokes around.

Harry's standing there in his pants, frowning at Niall. "Well, it was a tour thing. But you don't stop being sexy just because we're not on tour any more, Niall, don't be stupid. Now take your pants off and roll over."

"Right, then," Niall says faintly, and does as he's told.

He feels the bed dip as Harry gets on behind him, and then Harry leans over to grab the pillows from the top of the bed. "Up," he says, tapping at Niall's hip, and shoves the pillow under Niall’s hips when he complies.

Niall's feeling right daft with his pale arse poking up in the air, but he has to admit he's also a lot curious and a bit turned on. In his experience, Harry's approach to sex is the same as his approach to everything else: enthusiasm and joy in equal measures, with a healthy appreciation for the stranger things in life thrown in. If Harry reckons this thing he's on to is a winner, Niall's not going to write it off until he's tried it. Although it is starting to seem like it might be arse stuff, and that's not a place Niall's ever been, or ever wanted to go. Still: try everything once, that’s his motto.

“Comfy there, Nialler?” Harry slips a cheeky hand between Niall and the pillow and gives Niall’s cock a squeeze. It fattens up at the attention. “Knee alright? Not too sore?”

“It’s fine, Haz. Just get on with it, will ya?” Or Niall'll lose his nerve, and that's not something he wants to do.

"Only since you asked so nicely,” Harry says, and then ducks down and -

“Jesus fuckin' Christ, Harry, was that your _tongue_?” Niall's just about come off the bed in surprise, pretzeling himself around to face Harry, who's on his knees and looking supremely smug. 

"S'good, innit?" he asks, sitting back. “First time Ben did it to me, I was so loud his neighbours came knocking.”

Niall's still spluttering in disbelief. “But - like - your _tongue_. On me _arse_.”

“Yep. Don't you like it?” Harry's looking deceptively innocent for someone who's just done what he's done.

Well, and isn't that the million pound question. “I don’t - I don’t know. It felt seriously _weird_ , mate.”

“Well I was only there for half a second,” Harry says reasonably. “You’ve got to give it a chance. Come on, roll back over.”

“Alright. Just - don't put anything in me, alright?” Niall settles himself back onto his front. 

He can almost hear Harry rolling his eyes. “I swear I won't put anything in your bum unless you ask me to, Niall. Now relax and let me do this.”

Niall takes a deep breath and tries to do as he’s told. At least he’s ready for it, this time, the touch of Harry's warm tongue on his hole, but it still makes him clench up involuntarily. 

“Mmph,” Harry says, muffled. “I said _relax_.”

“Okay, okay," Niall grumbles, and concentrates on staring directly in front of him, staying as still as possible. 

He’s not hard at all, anymore, gone soft at the weirdness of it all, lying on his bed with his mate’s tongue on his arse. After a minute, though, with Harry sort of licking and sucking and making all sorts of noises like he does when he’s giving a blowjob - and Niall knows from experience that’s something Harry enjoys very much indeed - Niall finds that he’s starting to enjoy it, too. He hadn’t known that bit of him was so sensitive, but it seems it is, and it’s sending all sorts of pingy zingy sensations through him that his cock’s not quite sure what to do with.

Harry picks that moment to pull back. “You can touch yourself if you want,” he says. “Angle’s a bit rubbish for me to get a hand in, sorry.” Then he’s diving back in.

Niall thinks about it for a second and then shifts up a little bit on his knees, careful as he can of his sore one, just enough to get a hand on himself. Ahh, fuck, that’s it. It seemed his body was just waiting for a little hint that this was something sexy that was going on after all, because now the stuff Harry’s doing is going directly to his cock. It only takes a couple of strokes for Niall to be properly hard, cock firm up against his belly and foreskin slipping over the head with every stroke of his hand.

“Haz, fuck,” he grunts out, because there’s nothing worse than sex with an unappreciative partner. “That’s fuckin' - brilliant, keep going.”

The only response he gets is a bit of a squeeze of his bum cheeks where Harry’s hands are resting, but that’s alright with Niall. He concentrates on his cock, making his strokes long and slow, something that’ll get him there but not too quickly. He’s enjoying this too much.

And then Harry changes things a bit, does something different with his tongue, goes from soft and warm to something firm and deliberate and Niall realises that Harry’s fucking Niall’s hole with his tongue.

It feels different than Niall’d imagined, having something poking around in there. Not that Harry’s able to get very far just with his tongue, but the feeling of sort of opening up, of - _being opened_ \- is. Well.

Niall pushes his face into the sheets. He can’t believe he’s going to say this, but the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Haz, can you put - put somethin' in me.”

The amazing feeling in his arse stops as Harry pulls back. “What?”

“You heard.” He keeps his face firmly squashed against the sheets so he doesn’t have to look at Harry. “Don’t make me say it again. Please.”

For the first time this afternoon, Harry sounds a bit uncertain. “Okay. But - tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

Niall doesn’t answer, and after a moment Harry’s tongue is back, warm and wet. He’s not going in with it anymore, just licking around, and Niall’s disappointed for a moment before he feels something different, something more distinct - ah. Harry’s finger.

He must’ve got it wet with spit so there’s only a bit of friction as he pushes it in. It feels huge to Niall, but he knows logically it can’t be much at all. Harry’ll be going easy on him.

“More,” he grunts out against the sheet. “C’mon, Haz, I’m not gonna break.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Harry says, keeping his finger shallow. “And we haven’t got lube or anything.”

Ah. Well. How much more embarrassing can it get than asking for fingers in your bum, anyway? Niall lifts his head off the bed a bit. “I’ve got some.”

He can hear Harry pause. “You’ve got lube, Nialler?”

“Yeah.” Niall feels his face heat up after all. “It’s not for me, like, it’s for girls, you know, sometimes its good to have a bit of extra slick, especially with a condom - “

“Hey,” Harry interrupts him, “I’m not making fun of you. I’ve got, like, fourteen different sorts at home. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Yeah, alright,” Niall says. “But I’ve got some, anyway. So. Can you get it? Bedside table, top drawer.” He has a feeling if he gets up now, or even turns around to face Harry, he’s going to be too embarrassed to go through with this.

“Okay, hang on a minute.” 

Niall feels Harry shift off the bed and the sound of his drawer opening. He shuts his eyes and keeps them closed while Harry shuffles around. Finally, Harry gets back on the bed and there’s the click of the lube cap opening.

“Alright,” Harry says, sounding a bit breathless. “I”m gonna - I can’t do as much with my mouth if my hand’s in the way, alright? But - I’ll try, and, like, tell me if it’s not good.”

This time the finger that pushes in is cool, but it slides easily with the slick and Niall feels himself opening around it, his body making space for it. 

“Okay?” Harry asks, breath warm right up against Niall’s hole. “I’ve just gotta - “ he twists his finger around a bit, curves it slightly as he pulls back, and - 

“Oh, fuck,” Niall groans. That was like - like an electric shock from his arse to his dick.

“You like it?” He can hear the grin in Harry’s voice.

“Un-be-fuckin-lievable,” he manages. He’d stopped wanking himself during all the faffing about finding the slick, but he starts again now, just as the tip of Harry’s finger slips past that spot again. His hips jerk involuntarily into the pillow and his cock spurts a little bit of precome into his fist. “Bloody cuntin’ fuck that’s good.”

“Glad you like it,” Harry breathes against his skin. “S’your prostate. Not everybody does, but.” Another light brush has Niall’s hips going again. “I thought you might.”

By now the stretch from the finger is starting to fade, and while the little shocks Harry’s sending through him are amazing, Niall’s starting to miss it. “Can you - another finger?”

“Yeah. Okay, yeah."

Niall feels it nudge up against his hole, then the slow ache as Harry pushes it in alongside the first. 

It feels amazing, better than he’d ever thought it could, two of Harry’s fingers brushing against that spot, and he sinks into the pleasure of it for a little while. But another idea’s growing in the back of Niall’s mind, now, something he’d never thought he’d want. Just the idea of it is getting distracting, all-consuming. He hadn’t woken up this morning expecting to want to lose his arse virginity to one of his best mates, but then that was the great thing about life, Niall reckoned: just when you thought you’d got yourself sorted out it’d throw you a curly one. And, hell, he’d already had Harry’s fingers in his arse; in for a penny, and all that.

“Harry,” he says into the mattress, before he can talk himself out of it. “Will you fuck me?”

The fingers in his arse still, then withdraw. Niall exerts all the self-control he has left to stop himself pushing back into them.

“What? Niall, what did you say?”

Of course Harry was never going to just get on and do it without having a good ol' chat about it first. But fuck, if Niall wants it, he should bloody well be able to ask for it. He takes a deep breath and rolls over onto his back. “I want you to fuck me,” he says, clear as he can, though he's looking at the ceiling and not Harry's face. “Like, with your cock, not just your fingers.”

“I worked that part out, Niall, thanks,” Harry says. “But I mean - are you sure? You’ve not - you’ve not done that before, have you?”

“You know I haven’t." Harry'd been there when Niall'd fumbled through his first rubbish attempts at blowjobs, and blowjobs were all he'd done with a bloke, until now. "But you have, right? So I know you’ll, like, make it good for me. Unless,” and this hadn’t occurred to Niall until now, but he supposes not everybody does it both ways, “unless you don’t want to. If that’s not what you’re into, or whatever.” He tries for a casual shrug but he doesn’t think he pulls it off.

Harry makes an agonised sort of noise. “Niall. Of course I fucking want to, don't be mental. But, I mean, your first time is kind of a big deal, and, like, I don’t want to sound up myself or anything, but I’m not exactly small, so - “

Niall rolls his eyes. “Harry, you wanker. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but will ya please shut up and put your fuckin’ gigantic monster of a cock in me?”

His words hang in the air for a second, and then they both burst into fits of laughter. Harry flops onto the bed next to Niall and pushes his face into Niall’s shoulder, shaking with giggles. 

“My _fuckin’ gigantic monster of a cock_ ,” Harry gasps out between breaths. His attempt at Niall's accent really is atrocious. "You said it, not me!"

"Bleedin' _ginormous_ ," Niall says.

"Fuckin' _huge_."

"Cuntin' _massive_."

Eventually they run out of adjectives and settle down a bit, and Harry turns serious again, though the worried note in his voice is gone.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. “You know we don’t have to, not everybody does it. I don't, like, with Ben. I can get you off just with my fingers."

“If you keep asking me if I’m sure, I’m gonna say no just to piss you off,” Niall says. He can still feel the ghost of Harry’s fingers in his bum, and he wants more.

“Okay. Okay.” Harry frowns. “Have you got mouthwash or anything, then? If we’re going to do this then I want to be able to kiss you.”

Niall shakes his head. “No mouthwash. Toothpaste in the bathroom - but wash your filthy hand before you go touchin’ my stuff, will ya?”

“It’s your filth!” Harry calls as he hops off the bed and goes into the bathroom.

"Yeah, but I don't put it on me toothbrush!"

It’s an odd moment for Niall, lying there alone on his familiar old bed waiting to be - deflowered, he guesses, and by Harry no less. But it’s not long before Harry comes stumbling back into the room, and the funny feeling in Niall’s chest eases a bit at the sight of Harry's familiar pigeon-toed gait.

“I feel like we should have some candles or something,” Harry says as he picks his way back to the bed through the mess. “You know, make it a bit nicer for you.”

“You don’t have to fuckin’ woo me, Hazza,” Niall says. “I’m a sure thing.”

“Still, there’s nothing wrong with wanting things to be nice,” Harry says with a pout.

“I know, you daft git. C’mere.” Niall pulls him in.

It’s a bit weird that this is the first time today they’ve kissed, considering everything else that’s happened, and what they’re about to do. At least Harry's mouth is familiar, his slow, careful tongue reminding Niall of afternoons on the bus, doing nothing more than trading sleepy kisses back and forth.

"There, that's better," Niall says when he's pulled back. "Proper romantic, that was. Now come on and fuck me already."

There's a bit more faffing around, then, as they work out how to position themselves - Harry wants Niall on his back, he says, so he can see his face - and Harry then has to get out of bed again to dig through his wallet for a condom that'll fit him. But eventually they get themselves sorted.

When Harry finally takes his pants off, Niall has to stop himself from leaning over and giving Harry's dick a little peck on the tip, like, _hi, hello, I've missed you_. What a fuckin' weird thing to feel about a dick, and it's only been a couple of months since he last saw it, anyway. He's grateful when Harry distracts him by slicking his fingers up again and pushing two back into Niall's arse.

"Ahh, fuck, that's the way," Niall groans.

Harry works his fingers in and out for a little while, with long, smooth strokes. Niall's just considering whether to throw the last of his dignity away by begging for Harry's cock already when Harry does the unthinkable and starts to add a third finger, slow and careful.

"Oh, come _on_ ," Niall says. "Seriously?" The stretch of three fingers is good, but it's not what he wants.

"You'll thank me in a minute," Harry says with a frown. "Just shut up and be patient, alright? I know what I'm doing."

He does seem to, is the thing: three fingers make Niall feel good all over, warm and a bit fuzzed out around the edges, like he's lost track of which bits of his body are connected to him. Harry fucks him with them for what seems like ages, until Niall's not feeling any urgency at all anymore to come, happy instead just floating in this in-between place where he's turned on but doesn't need anything more.

Harry, of course, picks that moment to pull his fingers out and faff around putting a condom on, totally breaking the spell. Niall pushes himself up on his elbows to watch as Harry slicks himself up. A few butterflies have set up shop in his guts at what they're about to do.

Finally ready, Harry shuffles forwards on his knees, pressing Niall's legs back and out, until his cock is just nudging up against Niall's hole. Then he pauses again. "You still alright?" he asks. "I'm not hurting your knee?”

To be honest, Niall's forgotten all about his knee, for the first time in weeks. "It's fine, but I'll be getting bloody arthritis in a minute if you don’t hurry the fuck up and get on with it," he says. All this stopping and starting is not helping with the butterflies.

"Right, okay." Harry bites his lip, then leans down and takes himself in hand. Niall feels the pressure against his hole increase slightly. "Okay, so I'm just gonna - remember to breathe, okay? Here we go." 

He pushes in.

It's - fuck, it's a lot. More than Niall thought it would be, even. He's glad now that Harry took his time with his fingers. Fuckin' hell, Harry feels _huge_. Do people really do this for fun?

Niall's eyes have fallen shut, and distantly, he registers that Harry's saying his name, trying to get his attention, sounding concerned. 

"'M alright," he gets out. "Just - give me a minute. Fuck."

Harry's voice is strained. "'Kay. Let me know when you're good for me to put the rest in, okay?"

The _rest_? Niall cracks an eye open. "What d'ya mean, the rest? How much've you got in me now?"

Harry has the grace to blush. "Just, like, the head, I guess?"

"Fuuuck." Niall lets his eyes fall shut again. Fuckin' Harry and his abnormally large fuckin' cock, why couldn't Niall have picked someone normally sized to do this with?

It is starting to feel better, though, the burn easing, and after a minute he feels brave enough to say, "Alright, go on with ya, do your worst."

Harry lets out a long gusting sigh as he slowly pushes the rest of the way in. Niall feels every inch of it, but the burn fades quickly, leaving just an unaccustomed fullness.

Harry stops again when he's in deep, his hips pressed against Niall's bum. Niall's balls suddenly feel itchy, and it takes him a second but then he realises - Harry's pubes are tickling him. He has to repress a sudden urge to giggle. 

He mustn't do a very good job, because Harry says, "Whaaat? What? Niall, are you laughing at me?"

Niall opens his eyes. Harry's right there, leaning over him, with his ridiculous bottom lip hanging down in a pout. That's all it takes - Niall loses it, cackling, and fuck but isn't that a funny feeling, laughing with a cock up your arse. It sets him off again, even harder.

He's been going for a good thirty seconds, breathless, when Harry's expression starts to turn from bemused to a little bit hurt, and Niall tries to calm himself down. 

"Sorry, sorry Hazza. I'm not laughin' at you, I swear. I was just, like, you were ticklin' me balls, and then laughing felt so fuckin' weird I couldn't stop."

"Oh. Ohhhh." Harry's frown clears. "Well, okay then. And I guess if you're laughing I don't need to ask if you're okay for me to do this." He pulls his cock out a bit and shoves back in. "Yeah?"

Fuck. "Yeah." Laughing seems to have relaxed Niall properly, and Harry's cock in his arse feels nothing but good. Niall gets his good knee bent up and knocks an ankle against Harry's bum. "C'mon, do it."

Harry sets up a slow but steady pace, surprisingly smooth and coordinated given how crap he can be at everyday things like walking. Every upstroke he pulls back until just the tip of his cock's still in, and every downstroke he changes the angle a bit, brow furrowed like he's searching for something. 

After a minute Niall remembers his own cock, sitting there all neglected on his belly. He gets a hand to it and starts pulling himself off in time with Harry's strokes. Then Harry shifts again, and this time when he pushes in Niall gets that electric-shocky feeling again, only now it's magnified by the full-on pressure and heat of Harry's cock deep inside him. He gasps.

"S'that it?" Harry says. He's started to sweat, hair hanging over his forehead. "Nialler, 's that it? Did I get it?"

"Yeah, fuckin' - yeah. Do it again."

Harry takes direction like a champ, and his next stroke, and the next one, are unerringly on-target, lighting Niall up from the inside out. Niall can feel his orgasm starting to build, almost too quickly, but after building up to this all afternoon he suddenly doesn't want to wait any longer. He starts to fist himself faster.

Harry notices and speeds up, too, hips slapping against Niall's arse. "Yeah, Nialler, that's it, get yourself off, come on, I want to feel you come on my cock."

It should sound ridiculous, like a cheap porno, but somehow it doesn't, it's just fucking hot. Niall feels his balls tighten up and he squeezes his eyes shut, chasing that feeling, chasing it, Harry thick and deep and heavy inside him, fucking the orgasm out of him. With one last twist of his hand on the head of his cock Niall comes, spurting up and over his chest. Harry fucks him through it and Niall feels himself clenching around the thick length of him, dragging his orgasm out until it feels like he's been coming for days, pulsing until he's dry.

"That's it, fuck, you're so fucking amazing, love the way you look when you come for me," Harry gasps out. 

He's still pistoning away, sweat beading on his forehead, but Niall's gone, just totally boneless, legs trembling like jelly as Harry presses him into the bed at double speed, dicking into him hard and fast. It's almost too much, Niall starting to feel used and over-stimulated, but then Harry's hips stutter and he finally comes, collapsing into Niall and groaning as he jerks out his orgasm.

Niall wants to give him a minute to recover, but Harry's not a lightweight, and he's landed right on Niall's dodgy knee. 

"Harry. Haz. Move."

"Mmph?" Harry's sweaty head lifts a few centimetres off Niall's torso, the drops back down again. "Can't move. Dead," he reports.

"Seriously, ger'off, dickhead." Niall slaps at Harry's side. "You're on my knee."

"Oh. Oh!" Harry comes rapidly back to life and flips himself off Niall, who hisses in discomfort.

"Ow, you fucker, I meant _pull out first_." Niall guesses this is the less sexy part of the whole gay sex business. That had stung rather more than he'd anticipated.

"Sorry, sorry." Harry pats at Niall's hole with a flappy hand. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"No, you've done enough of that, thanks, leave it alone," Niall grumbles. He brings his legs together, just to be safe. "And get that bloody condom off already, that's fuckin' disgusting.”

Mercifully, for once Harry does as he's told without grumbling, and disappears into the bathroom to clean himself up. When he comes back he tosses a wet flannel at Niall and it lands with a cold, wet _plop_ on Niall's chest.

"Cheers," Niall says, wiping himself up. "Wouldn't have wanted you to warm that up, or anything. You always this much of a charmer after you get laid?"

"You know it," Harry says with a cheerful grin, flopping onto the bed next to Niall. He presses a sloppy kiss to Niall's cheek. "How's your knee, though, 's it alright? We didn't muck it up?"

Niall tests it out carefully, flexing and straightening it as he lies back on the bed. Surprisingly, it feels good - he reckons the little bit of wobbliness is probably more due to the amazing orgasm he just had, rather than anything else. "S'alright, I think. Might even've done it some good, maybe, with stretching it an' all."

"Good," Harry says, looking immensely self-satisfied. "That was the goal, after all."

Niall snorts. "What, like, sex physio? Not sure that's a thing, mate."

"It is now." Harry sits up and gestures grandiosely. "Just call me Harry Styles, sex physiotherapist to the stars."

Niall chucks a pillow at his head. "I'll call you a fuckin' wanker, is what I'll do."

In the end, it's probably the pillow fight that follows that does Niall's knee in and lands him temporarily back on the crutches. He's not too fussed, though. As Harry says, it just means he'll need another round of "therapy" tomorrow.

Niall finds he's looking forward to it.


End file.
